


Let's Start a Tab

by Laur



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, This has no redeeming qualities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laur/pseuds/Laur
Summary: When you replace 'pen' with 'blowjob'.





	Let's Start a Tab

“I said ‘could you give me a blowjob’.”

Having just stepped into the flat, John paused in the process of removing his coat. “Excuse me?”

“About half an hour ago,” Sherlock clarified.

John hung up his coat and glanced at his watch. “I’ve been out since eleven.”

“Hardly my fault you couldn’t hear me.”

“Right, why should I give you a blowjob?”

Lying on the couch, Sherlock twitched his shoulders in an imitation of a shrug. “I’m in the mood.”

John ran his eyes along Sherlock’s supine form. His eyes were closed, his hands tucked under his chin. They were in the middle of a case. “Don’t look it.”

“I am. You’ve been distracting me more than usual for the past hour at least.”

“Oh, sorry.”

John’s sarcasm was completely lost on his flatmate, who sighed and said, “Hardly your fault.”

John rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to, of course. For the sake of honesty I’ll admit I have no intention of reciprocating at this time.”

John crossed his arms. “So this would be out of the goodness of my heart?”

“If you like.” Sherlock finally deigned to open his eyes and glance at the man whose mouth he was hoping to use. “We could start an orgasm tab, I suppose.”

“An orgasm tab…” John repeated, incredulous.

Sherlock hummed, somehow managing to look attractive while lazing in his pajamas on the couch. Christ, John was so gone on him. He briefly considered refusing, but figured there was really no point. John was a sure thing and Sherlock knew it.

“Right, fine,” he sighed, exasperated with himself for giving in so easily. “I’ll do it. But since you’ve done less than nothing to convince me, you can wait while I make myself a cuppa.”

Sherlock smiled. “Of course,” he said graciously.

John found his mug sitting innocuously on the work top, not where he’d left it, and was immediately suspicious. “Has anything inedible been in my mug recently?” he called.

A damning silence. “Define inedible.”

John huffed but couldn’t supress a fond smile. “Is it _clean_?”

“It is safe for the use of containing liquid meant for consumption, yes.”

“Oh, my God,” John muttered under his breath, and still fetched a second mug for Sherlock anyway. He thoroughly cleaned both as the water boiled, hummed absently as the tea bags soaked, then carried the two steaming mugs into the living area. “Your pedantry isn’t cute you know.”

“It’s not meant to be cute. In the case of your health and safety, clarity is key. Thank you,” he said, in response to the mug John placed on the coffee table for him.

“Sweet talker,” John accused, taking a sip and wincing at the temperature.

“Don’t burn your tongue, I feel I have an investment in it at the moment.”

John glanced at Sherlock’s crotch and noticed a bit of swelling happening. “You could just not use my mug for your experiments.”

“I could, but it was closest.”

John placed his mug down and maneuvered onto the couch, one knee on either side of Sherlock’s shins. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sherlock winked at him, didn't even bother to make it sexy. “But you love me.”

“Christ, I do,” John sighed, and leaned down to nuzzle Sherlock’s flat stomach. His fingers nudged up the edge of his pajama shirt, but when his lips touched hot, bare skin and he got no reaction, he looked up. Sherlock was looking at the ceiling, an odd, blank look on his face. “Hey,” John said softly, and Sherlock’s eyes snapped to his. “This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you look all… mind-palacey?”

Sherlock made a face at that but managed refrain from commenting. “Would it be better or worse for me to give you my full attention when I don’t intend to return the favour afterwards?”

John considered before responding. “It’s not a favour. I’m doing this because I love you and I want to. But when you lie there like that it does rather feel like I’m performing a service.”

Immediately, Sherlock let out a breath and buried his hands in John’s hair, nearly encasing his entire skull as he did so. With a little tug from Sherlock and some awkward shuffling from John, John was able to crawl up the too-small couch and bring his lips to Sherlock’s. Sherlock let out a soft hum of pleasure as John put his not-inconsiderable kissing skills to the task, and the first wave of real lust swept through him. He’d always been one to get off on his partner getting off.

After giving Sherlock’s lips the attention they deserved, he skimmed along a smooth jaw until he reached a defenseless earlobe, which he sucked and nipped until Sherlock’s neck arched under him.

“John,” he gasped, one hand gripping the back of John’s neck and the other firmly planted on his arse.

John ducked his head to place a lingering kiss on the side of his neck. Thinking Sherlock was becoming overwhelmed with pleasure, he asked a smug, “Yeah?”

“Get on with it,” Sherlock demanded.

“Oi.” John delivered a sharp nip to a t-shirt-covered clavicle. “Don’t rush the master.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Apologies. At your own pace, then.”

“Thank you.” John continued to work at Sherlock’s long neck until it was flushed and mottled scarlet, Sherlock’s hums of approval vibrating under his lips. He continued by pressing kisses to Sherlock’s collarbone, simultaneously insinuating his hands under Sherlock’s shirt until he could pluck at his stiff nipples. But there was a difference between working Sherlock up and frustrating him, and by the impatient erection grinding into his stomach and the restless hands grabbing at him, John knew it was time to move things along.

John was breathless and flushed himself as he shuffled back down the couch, and he was forced to undo the button and zipper of his jeans to give himself some relief from the pressure. Sherlock’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth open as he panted, and as he tilted his head to watch John pull down his pajama bottoms, the skin under his jaw crumpled to give the appearance of a double chin. John’s heart throbbed with fond amusement and he quickly ducked his head to hide his expression.

Sherlock was already fully erect and leaking, so John wasted no time in getting his mouth on him. A sharp hiss forced its way through Sherlock’s teeth as John ran his tongue up the length of him, a stuttered gasp as John’s lips closed over the head of him. The familiar scent of his skin and sweat and arousal filled John’s head, making his mouth water. Eager with lust, John’s intentions of going slow were ebbing as he took in more of Sherlock’s cock, swirling his tongue deliciously.

A big hand settled on John’s head, long fingers combing through his hair, Sherlock’s sibilant ‘yes’ slipping out between clenched teeth. With his right hand on Sherlock’s hip, thumb stroking the prominent iliac crest, John used his left hand to shove Sherlock’s leg off the couch. Head bobbing slowly, John took Sherlock’s testicles lovingly in hand as Sherlock’s pelvis twitched. With a doctor’s delicate touch, he fondled and stroked until precum and his own saliva dripped down to meet his fingers, all the while hollowing his cheeks around the eager cock in his mouth and teasing the tip with an agile tongue. When strained sounds began accompanying Sherlock’s gasping breaths, he pulled off Sherlock’s ruddy cock to lick at his balls.

“Christ,” Sherlock groaned, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other clutching desperately at the couch’s edge, hips thrusting minutely, incessantly.

Hand and mouth swapping places, John hummed around the delicate ball in his mouth, his palm gliding quickly now along Sherlock’s slick, smooth cock, careful to gently tug at the foreskin with each pass. Breathing hard and erection aching, John fought through his own lust to maintain his coordination, moaning a bit as he swallowed around the other testicle. In his fist, Sherlock’s cock twitched and the leg under John’s arm tensed.

“Oh, God, John.”

He swapped positions again, but this time urged Sherlock’s hips with his hands, keeping his mouth still as Sherlock thrust up into him. With a breathless swear, Sherlock grabbed John’s head again and planted his feet, holding nothing back as he fucked John’s mouth. Through tearing eyes, John looked up past Sherlock’s tensing stomach, past his flushed chest, past his double chin to meet his dazed, wild eyes.

John knew his face was an open book to Sherlock – Sherlock had read his mind from his unconscious facial expressions on more than one occasion. So when John looked up at him, with his nails digging into Sherlock’s hips, his lips swollen around Sherlock’s twitching cock, his chin glistening with Sherlock’s pre-ejaculate, and his throat struggling to stay open for Sherlock’s thrusts, he knew his fierce adoration and arousal were on full display.

After only a moment maintaining that shared gaze, Sherlock’s eyes widened and rolled back, his mouth dropping open with a choked off shout as he shoved a forearm into his own mouth. Other hand still clamped in John’s hair, Sherlock thrusted spastically into John’s waiting mouth, cock swelling and twitching as his orgasm ripped through him. No matter how expected, John still struggled a bit with the eruption of come in the back of his throat, clenching Sherlock’s tensing arse cheeks in his hands.

“Fuck,” Sherlock wheezed, shuddering hard as John sucked the last of it out of him, then slipping out of John’s mouth as he sank back into the couch cushions. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Lips raw, throat sore and breathing nearly as heavily as Sherlock, John managed a snort as he adjusted himself. God, he was ready to burst himself.

After a moment to recover, John leaned up for a kiss, but Sherlock made a face and tilted his head away. Chuckling, John reached for his tepid tea and took several deep swallows, swishing some around his mouth for good measure. Sherlock lay sprawled on the couch still, barely nudging up his hips to help as John put his pajama bottoms back to rights.

“Please don’t talk to me for the next hour or so.”

“Alright. Can I think about you though?” John teased.

Sherlock glanced at the erection peeking out of John’s pants. “Feel free. But perhaps in another room.”

“Sure thing, love. Have a good think.” John turned away, his mind already in his bedroom where he could have a luxurious wank, but Sherlock caught his wrist. With a sigh, Sherlock sat up and pulled John down, bringing their lips together in a filthy kiss that made John’s cock throb and his knees a bit weak. When Sherlock flopped back down, it was a moment before John could blink the lust from his vision and straighten his back again.

“I love you,” Sherlock said simply. He delivered a light swap to John’s arse. “Now go away, please.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse.


End file.
